


Two Fists of Solid Rock

by jusrecht



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: BAMF!Graves, BAMF!Newt, M/M, Protective!Newt, i have a thing for badass couples, protective!Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 03:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10208141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: When some people are trying to get back at Percival Graves by targeting Newt Scamander. And vice versa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Still blocked for the other fic D: So I scribbled this intead. Warning: word vomit ahead
> 
> Title came from the song _The Greatest_ by Cat Power.  
> 

How it began was this: Percival Graves was seen kissing MACUSA’s resident consulting Magizoologist in the grand lobby of Woolworth Building, under about a hundred pairs of eyes.

 

There was a moment of stunned inaction while the kiss lasted—for eleven and a half seconds according to the clock, or a full eternity as attested by any onlooker standing dumbstruck at the scene.

 

As soon as it had ended, the flurry of activities immediately recommenced, as if a Stunning Spell had been lifted from the area. Everyone hastened to resume their business, face averted, eyes silently darting about. Perhaps the more ingenious few managed to find a reason to linger, or to slow down their pace, or to turn their head inconspicuously in the direction of the two men. Some glimpsed a smile; others rectified this account by stating that there had been _two_ , instead of one smile; yet others vouched most vehemently on the existence of affectionate laughter (completely unheard-of, of course, considering the reputation of their Director of Magical Security), followed by a second kiss.

 

No other gossip had ever travelled faster. By the end of the day, there was not a single MACUSA employee who had not heard of The Kiss. By the end of the week, only the most secluded hermits could profess no knowledge whatsoever on what they now called the most famous couple in the American wizarding society.

 

And thus it began.

 

 

.

 

 

The first attempt came three weeks after The Kiss.

 

Newt, suffering only a scraped knee from the incident, waved it off as a minor accident. Percival, trained to look at everything with a suspicious eye, had a far less charitable view on the matter, but kept his opinions to himself for the time being.

 

Then the second attempt happened. This time, Newt suffered no injury, but the same could not be said about a No-Maj who was passing nearby, clearly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Percival made sure that the man had his spine fixed and memory properly Obliviated before ordering a full investigation into the ‘accident’.

 

And then the third happened. And the fourth. And the fifth.

 

That Newt had managed to escape each and every one of them virtually unscathed was only due to his own merits. A combination of sheer ingenuity and the habit of thinking so far out of the box it practically didn’t exist had given him a slippery edge unexpected by any of his attackers.

 

It was, Newt assured him, nothing out of the ordinary. He had offended a number of people before. There had been attempts on his life before. The sudden increase in frequency was alarming, true, but as long as he could avoid them just fine…

 

Percival was far less inclined to follow this optimistic approach. He led the investigations himself, studied the crime scenes himself, went through the baffling number of evidences himself. At night, he allowed himself to take Newt into his arms and hold him, basking in his reassuring warmth. In the morning, he returned to the office and continued working on the case.

 

In the end, it was not difficult to put two and two together. 

 

Once he had names, the process was more or less straightforward. A team of Aurors were dispatched to various locations. Suspects were whisked to the deepest, darkest of MACUSA’s cells, ninety-nine-story underground. This was where he attempted everything within the boundaries of the law to extract answers from stubbornly sealed lips. A few trusted Aurors turned their faces away as boundaries were stretched to accommodate resourcefulness, born on this side of necessity. Sooner or later, answers were obtained. Names were named.

 

Percival Graves wore all black when he went to confront the people corresponding to those names. He went alone.

 

Only then did the real hellfire began.

 

 

.

 

 

There was nothing Newt hated more than the thought that anyone would use his creatures to get back at him.

 

This, unfortunately, had not stayed as mere thoughts. More than once, he had found himself facing a situation where Pickett/Amanda/Georgie/Bill/Dorothy had been held hostage. His single-minded love for his creatures were well-known enough in the underworld. There would always be some unscrupulous characters who would try and exploit this trait for their own ends.

 

Percival Graves was a different matter entirely.

 

Being the Director of Magical Security was not the safest job in the world. The occasional injuries would happen. Death threats were but a regular occurrence. Occupational hazards, so Percival said, and when he pulled him into his arms, Newt learned to laugh at these things. He had to—and he trusted Percival.

 

It was when ‘occasional’ became ‘frequent’ that his suspicion was roused. Even Tina began to question the real nature of these ‘incidents’, as she confessed to him during one of their lunches.

 

Newt listened. He scraped as much details as he could. He made his own inquiries, followed his own theories, formed his own conclusions.

 

The next time Tina mentioned another incident, he hummed but made no other reply. Tina raised her eyebrows. Queenie stared, her consciousness pricked by unease, but there was no thought she could touch from the other side of the table. (In the future, she would find herself flinching whenever Newt made that sound, still for reasons she did not quite understand.)

 

Newt had his own methods. They were not the most conventional or the most legal, but they yielded results. He had a network, comprised of humans and creatures both, and a combination of these rarely yielded the wrong result. In a few weeks, he had names.

 

It would begin with a visit, all perfectly nice and civilised (though not always with a prior appointment). He would ask them, very politely, to please address their grievances to him and him alone, instead of involving others completely unconnected to the problem. Most laughed at him, confident in their knowledge of his weakness. Newt Scamander was in love. He was not invincible.

 

This part always ended in failure. Newt returned home. He did not come back until days later, under the cover of night.

 

What actually transpired was unclear to the public. All they knew was there were disappearances, sometimes without a trace, sometimes with ominous trails of blood left in their wake, which were hardly more encouraging. Most were big names in illegal trading, smugglers and traffickers, with the occasional hitmen popping up in the list every few months or so (but these were usually shrugged off as a matter of fact, considering the nature of the profession).

 

Some of these missing persons would appear three, four months later, with effectively no memory of their time in between. They would recover in due time, although their wits would forever be impaired and so not allowing their return to any former occupation. Another side effect included an extreme reaction at any glimpse of red hair, the colour peacock blue, and bowtruckles. This combination was telling enough so as to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind on who had been responsible.

 

Some never returned. Before long, rumours began to spread. One or two were seen roaming the wilderness of Africa, witless and muttering unintelligibly to himself. A few were said to have been given as tributes to a particularly ferocious clan of dragons. Some had undoubtedly been murdered on the spot, their remains fed to all manners of dark creatures lurking in that infernal suitcase.

 

But no one quite ever found out the truth and so these speculations persisted for a long time.

 

 

.

 

 

By the end of the year, Percival Graves and Newt Scamander were no longer the most famous couple in the American wizarding world. They were the most _infamous_ —to the distress of every self-respecting villain in the area. It would take another year for the entire criminal hierarchy to learn that in some cases, allowing revenge to go unexacted was probably the most prudent course of action.

 

And if, from time to time, Percival found a missing case person that led him to a certain notorious entity in a blue coat, then he would content himself with keeping an eye open but saying nothing. (And if Newt ever noticed the occasional spatter of blood on Percival’s sleeve, then he, too, would content himself with keeping an eye open but saying nothing.)

 

He would keep Newt safe. (And Newt would keep him safe.)

 

Everything else was collateral.

 

 

**_End_ **

 


End file.
